


I Wish You Would

by JennaGill



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:05:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4047136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaGill/pseuds/JennaGill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss Everdeen had never wished for anything, that is until a mad, mad love came in the form of a class project partner with blue eyes and blonde curls. A poptart mash up of 1989’s track 7 and Everlark in a highschool AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wish You Would

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Suzanne Collins and Taylor Swift for inspiration. Thank you Court for your beta prowess and Mel for my perfect banner.

“I, I, I, I, I, I wish, I wish...” Madge belts out — or rather it sounds more like she’s hyperventilating.

 

She thinks she’s singing but it’s all noise to me. I prefer folksy tunes to the trendy album that’s been circulating since fall and is currently blaring on Madge’s car stereo system. I’ve heard the popular tracks on the radio and put up with Madge singing her favorites off-key ever since she brought the deluxe version home.  

 

“Awww c’mon Everdeen,” Madge taunts. “I know you have a set of pipes on you; let’s sing together!”

 

“No thank you — you’re doing just fine on your own, pop tart,” I tease back.

 

It turns out that Madge never stops listening to the album. If we are driving or in Madge’s room, it’s always on. It’s just sounds at first, but then I start paying attention to the melodies and lyrics. Some are upbeat, while some are sad, and it starts to creep up on me.

 

I wonder aloud, one afternoon at her house, “Do you play this when Gale comes over?”

 

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I try to see how many times he can get me off in the 60 minutes from beginning to end,” Madge boasts.

 

My scowl doesn’t deter her from continuing. _Oh_ _joy_.

 

“And I really like it when Gale moves his ass to the beat. I’m getting a little hot just thinking about it,” Madge brags.

 

I throw my arm over me eyes. “Ugh. I did _not_ need to know that”

 

“Well, you asked. You and Peeta should just do it. Get it over with before we all graduate. You like him enough, right?” Madge asks teasingly.

 

I nod because I can't dislodge the words from my throat. I like him more than 'enough.’

 

“You gotta admit, that’s a pretty favorable pairing for your senior project your last semester,” Madge prattles on, and she’s right.

 

He’d caught my attention over the years in school but I hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to him until we were thrown together this January. I discovered how much his proximity affected me early on during a planning session, and it hasn’t let up since.

 

Our senior project to depict native plants from our district represents a division of labor between our talents: Peeta’s illustrations and my descriptions.

 

It didn’t take much convincing for Peeta either. He handed me the reins on this project almost immediately. We do not have much to do in January and February, as everything is still underground, but we took the time to plan while everything is dormant.

 

I had taken advantage of a pass to the map lab and printed off a stack of posters to cover our project area, and a few of the whole thing to mark up.

 

We met at the library to review the maps together, as well as to chart our field trips in the large, relatively undisturbed wilderness area on the outskirts of town.

 

_“How many do you think it'll take to cover the 15,000 acres of Antonoff Conservation Area?” Peeta asked._

 

_“That’s roughly 23 square miles, and I figure we can do meandering surveys for three squares in one day,” I venture._

 

_“So seven or eight days in the woods,” Peeta calculated. “And more for pressing, cataloging, and sketching.”_

 

_“Yeah, do you think you can get that kind of time off from the bakery?” I questioned and tried to quiet the hope in my voice. It would be nice to get all of the field work knocked out while the days are cool and still have plenty of time to finish the illustrations._

_“Yeah, Mom will let me go for a school project. I may have to keep it to myself that my partner’s a pretty girl,” he teased with a wiggle of his eyebrows._

_Is he flirting with me? My confusion settles into my face as a scowl and effectively silenced him as I began to point out the different habitats on the maps.  Our arms brushed by mistake while we both leaned over table. It was disorienting to me and it seemed to have gotten hotter in the study room. I moved to sit side by side just to feel rooted._

 

_“What do these different patterns mean?” he asked._

 

_I explained the various aerial photo signatures on the map and relaxed a bit as I went into tutor mode. I traced the riparian areas with my pen and even pointed out the lake on the edge of the district.  “I want to save that trip for our last day since it’s the furthest quadrant in the wilderness.”_

 

_I felt him staring at me and noticed that his lower lip was caught up in between his teeth while he concentrated on my impromptu lesson. His eyes flickered across the map, mentally dividing it, before he started allotting survey areas. We gravitated towards one another to partition the map into survey grids. I wanted to draw the shades on our study room, so no one else could see how close we were. Surely he'd get ridiculed by his teammates and I'd never hear the end of it from Madge._

 

_While my thoughts were far away and not focused on my fingers, my pen spun away from me as I tried to recap it. I pitched forward to catch it at the same time he reached out and caught me before I flopped on the table in the process. His blue eyes flashed in alarm and then deepened in color, just as surprised as I was that we were basically embracing. Although he was still a relative stranger, I welcomed his palms on my shoulder and arm. The heat from his fingertips pressed into my flesh, and later, I remember checking it for burns._

 

_Once the snow lifted and the calendar pages flipped, we took brief excursions out into the forest so I could show him the different habitats that we would encounter. Gale had done a similar project last year with the regional fauna, but flora was closer to my own interests. We collected and pressed samples. He drew the plants, using both the collected specimen and sketches from our field trips._

 

_I appreciated the way he was able to formulate articulate sentences from my rambling thought strings about leaf morphology, buttressing, and other growth forms. Every now and then I worried that he was doing more of the work, and I began to feel indebted to him. I helped with the text of what characteristics made each species different from others within the same genus, ecology, distribution, and usage. Once the days got longer and sprouts start to bloom, we worked weekends after he finished at the bakery and a few weekday afternoons too. I felt that I was spending more time with Peeta than with my mother or sister._

_I noticed other things too. Peeta had a habit of double-knotting his shoelaces. And he drank tea, when most kids our age were downing lattes and other sugary drinks. We worked on occasion either at my house or his, but he always liked the windows cracked – I wondered if he kept them ajar while he slept too._

 

_We got along better than I thought we would. We opened up to one another slowly and learned each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Peeta was also a quick study in pushing all of my buttons, teasing me about how squeamish I was, prompting smiles out of me, and tugging on my braid in the middle of the woods to get my attention._

 

_I would never admit it aloud, but I’ve thought about how his hands would feel on me. There had been a few times that I asked for a boost to climb a tree to gather leaves. I didn't need it; I just wanted to see what it felt like to be under the power of his strong grip, left seared into me since that day at the library. His steadiness never betrayed me whenever I requested it. What would happen if I asked for more?_

_I thought about it: the attraction, the innocent touches, and the fear. And longing. I might as well admit to some of that, too. I began to yearn for him and the bravery to act on my growing feelings for him, before it was too late._

 

Madge’s crooning brings me back to the present. “Hey, your birthday’s coming up this weekend. What do you want to do?”

 

I consider the question and shrug, still a little lost in Peeta thoughts. “I don’t know. Can you come over for dinner with Prim and my mom? Then maybe we can go out later? It’s my last field day with Peeta,” I add.   

 

“Oooooh…. are you going to ask him do anything special to you for your 18th?” Madge prods.

 

“Shut up. No,” I wrinkle my nose at her and laugh. “Birthdays haven’t meant much to me before, but I agree…18 brings a sense of accomplishment. We should do something fun,” I consider, and try to steer conversation off Peeta.

 

“Seriously, get on that. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You have it nearly as bad as he’s got it for you,” Madge pushes.

 

“He does not. You’re imagining things again, Madge.” I stammer at the possibility.

 

“Well I wasn’t _imagining_ it when I thought Gale was sweet on me because he kept bringing me strawberries, was I…hmmm?” Madge apprises.

 

I roll my eyes at her, effectively ending this conversation but it does not quell the thrill running through my veins at the idea.  


............

 

I hear Peeta’s truck before his headlights flash on my bay window very early on Saturday morning. I’d recognize the loud exhaust rumble from his rusty, leaking tail pipe anywhere after hearing him arrive for our work sessions the last few months. It's his brother's old green Ford, probably handed down from his dad. The noise is not as noticeable from inside the cab, but I would know the distinctive sound of his arrival blindfolded. I throw on a light jacket to fight the early morning chill.

 

Peeta greets me with a smile and a cheese bun — he knows my favorites by now.

 

“It’s great you could get the whole day off,” I say, genuinely surprised that his witch of a mom let him go.

 

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it to be so cool this morning. I had to run back in and get another shirt to stay warm,” he adds.

 

My eyes drift over the worn flannel. It’s a soft orange and white plaid, with thin stripes of green outlining the thick bands of color. I resist the urge to reach out and rub it as we head out to our study area.

 

“It’s our last collection day and I hope we can get it all done.” I state, hoping to hide the nervous energy in my chest. “We have a long hike today,” I remind him. “With the longer days, we would have enough light to get back to your truck, but we’ll be famished by the time we do”  

 

“Yeah, I brought us a lunch, to eat out by the ACA lake,” Peeta offers.

 

“Okay, cool, I’d like to be home early.” I add, leaving out the other details. He doesn’t need to know why today is special, or that I’m planning on celebrating with my sister and Madge.

 

............

 

It's been a perfect day. If Peeta knows it’s my birthday, he hasn’t let on in any way. We worked in my favorite part of the forest, near the lake and on the edge of the district. It was a long hike out there, though well worth it in my estimation. The weather cooperated and we were able to finish collecting all samples. Peeta set aside places in the small journal for the new species, starting with a rough sketch of each, in case anything happened to our samples - which were wrapped in damp paper towels and stuffed in plastic bags for the time being.

 

I’ve tried not to stare as the sunlight has brought out the freckles on his forearms and cheeks, as well as a smattering across the bridge of his nose. Or how well his gray t-shirt is stretched across his back and biceps. We have traded many easy smiles today and it’s weird, feeling that this will be our last full day in the woods together.

 

We hike back in silence after an amiable afternoon. I snag some wild mint on the way to fill the hollow in my belly. I offer some to Peeta as well.

 

Each step closer to the truck means less time with Peeta, with our project so close to completion. I’m not going to have any more long days with him. Before long, we’ll be finishing up classes and it will be graduation. I’m so focused on my own thoughts and didn't notice that he’s equally quiet.

 

Once we reach the makeshift parking lot, we load up our samples and other gear into the bed of the truck. Peeta shuts the heavy tailgate and turns to me. “Katniss...you didn’t say anything all day,” he intones.

 

I stop and give him my full attention, although the growl in my stomach has me wishing we could have this conversation on the way back to town.

 

"It might be easier to do this in an assembly, in front of the whole school, instead of right here, right now, telling you this...." Peeta babbles, while facing his truck and reaching into his bag.

 

"What, tell me what?" I echo.

 

He stops and turns to hand me a canvas. “Happy Birthday, Katniss. I painted this for you,” he adds.

 

I gasp when the image becomes clear to me, and drag my fingers across my lips. It’s beautiful.

 

It’s a katniss flower with its arrow-shaped leaves drawn alongside it, expertly illustrated.

  
“But how did you know? I haven’t said anything.…” I admit.

 

He takes a deep breath and faces me. "I like you. A lot. I liked you before and now I really like you. And yeah, I know when your birthday is. I’ve known the date of your birthday since fifth grade. You are so smart, you have taught me so much. And you are gorgeous. I'm drawn to you..." Peeta confesses.  

 

I’m taken aback by his admission. I meet his eyes and then he gives me a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that an unexpected warmth rushes through me. My initial hunger immediately migrates from my belly to every fiber of my being. I want to kiss this boy. I want to feel his body. I want to know if he tastes as good as he looks.

 

"Well, say something..."Peeta begs.

 

"I'm not good at saying anything," I mumble as I lean in for my first real kiss. My mouth is closed and all I can register is how soft his lips are. I break away and he blinks at me in shock. I can tell that he's taken aback, and he struggles to regain his composure. He bends towards me and cups my cheek for another kiss. Our lips meet and I feel his tongue slide against my lower lip. I open my mouth in surprise and feel the rest of his tongue glide against mine.

 

I place the canvas on the bed rail, before I drop it, and it frees up both hands to bring him back to me. My hands land on his chest to briefly arrest his motions.

 

“Thank you,” is all I can manage before his mouth descends upon me again. First he captures my top lip, then trades off for my lower lip, sneaking his tongue in again and again. He dots kisses along my jaw and I take a breath to repeat, “Thank you for the birthday gift.” He takes a step toward me, which backs us up against his truck.

 

“You’re welcome, Katniss” he breathes out before returning to my neck. I can feel his tongue licking along my pulse, and then chasing it with his lips. My head falls gently against the glass.

 

I raise my arms to card my fingers through his curls. I've been itching to do it for years, but the need intensified over the last few months. He tastes of mint and smells like cinnamon from the bakery — even after our long day outdoors; it must be in his clothes.

 

I’m at a crossroads of feeling like we're moving way too fast and not moving fast enough. I want this, this new sensation, and am receiving a clear messages that he does too. I'm pinned to the door, trapped between his tongue and sheet metal. His hand that's not cupping my cheek grasps my braid. His fingers slip along the plait, stop at the tip and then drop slowly down to my hip.

 

This feels good. My nipples tighten and strain through my favorite green t-shirt, towards him, and I know my panties are soaked. This is what Madge was talking about. And then I immediately shut out all thoughts of Madge and Gale, because those thoughts do not coexist well in my mind with Peeta against me.

 

I’ve wound my arms around his waist and feel him react to me. I feel a stirring in my chest. Warm and Curious. I want more. He groans in my mouth as I raise my right leg to hook around his left, bringing our bodies closer together.

 

“Katniss, do you want to maybe…get inside the truck?” Peeta croaks.

 

I nod and reluctantly separate from him so that he can pull open the back door. As I lift myself onto the bench seat and slide backwards, I ask myself how many other girls have gotten into this backseat with a Mellark brother? How many with Peeta? The thought makes me shiver on the warm spring evening but I forge ahead to see where this can go.

 

I’m not blind. Peeta is attractive with his soft, ashy waves constantly falling in his eyes, obstructing the view of his eyelashes, which I’ve found myself fixated on a time or twenty. I have heard the other girls talking about how well he fills out his wrestling singlet too, but I tried not to ogle his rump as he bent over to collect books from his backpack. No, I was more drawn to his broad chest that looked like a nice place to lay my head. And his hands.

 

“Katniss? Are you okay?” Peeta asks, concern etched on his face.

 

I shake my head of these thoughts and nod again, this time adding a smile to ease his worry lines.

 

He returns the smile ten-fold as he climbs in after me.

 

In the relative darkness and privacy of the cab, there are no more words. Grunts, sighs, and groans fill the air instead. Kissing him feels decadent. Having him rubbing against me through our clothes feels even more exciting. His lips blaze a burning trail from my ear, down to my collarbone. His hands have stayed in modest zones while our centers press together in the most forbidden of ways. I drag his palm to my breast and capture his moan of appreciation in my mouth. Maybe this is as easy as Madge says. _Take clothes off. Have the sex. Get it over with before graduation._

 

My legs spread for him without another thought. It feels incredible against the truck, so it stands to reason that it would be better with gravity helping out.

 

We find a groove where Peeta's hips push into mine, matched by the pace of our tongues’ strokes. I release small cries of pleasure with his every thrust that I am cushioning. We are working up a sweat in the truck cabin, so much so that our clothes seem like an unnecessary layer. I grip the hem of his shirt, pulling it upward and signaling my intentions. Peeta's face lights up in disbelief as he helps me remove the garment. He reaches for my shirt as well and I nod in acquiescence. I tug up on my sports bra to reveal my breasts to him.

 

"You're amazing," he scorches into my skin in a husky voice. "I always dreamed, but never thought this would actually happen..." he rasps as he traces my breasts and plucks at my nipples.

 

His words embody the moment and I'm not sure if I can handle being his fantasy, since I’m bringing mine to life. I tug on his belt to distract him.

 

"Really?" Peeta wonders aloud.

 

"Yes, do you have...?"

 

"Um, yeah - I mean, I didn't plan...like I said... But I have some."

 

"Get it," I assert and kiss him again before he or I can question my own motives.

 

Part of me thinks this would have happened anyway. Another part of me thinks this is too much, too soon. I busy myself from these thoughts by shimmying my pants, while he shucks his own and digs out what looks like a gold foil square.

 

I freeze when he produces the condom and the realness of the moment washes over me. I'm about to have sex. On my 18th birthday. I’m going to lose my virginity in the back of a pickup truck.

 

Then I look in his eyes. They are deep pools, shining with desire. For me. For this. For us. He extends his hand to stroke my cheek.

 

"Katniss, this is...um. I don't have a lot of...I mean, I haven't quite done this…."

 

I keep reducing this articulate boy to a babbling mess and I’m equally relieved to hear it.

 

I return the affectionate gesture by running my fingers through his rumpled hair. "It's okay, me too. We can figure it out together. I want it to be you," I state. His smile is so heart-achingly genuine, it nearly takes my breath away — or maybe that's him, surging toward me.

 

He lays one trembling arm along the seat back and braces himself up with the other along the seat edge. We resume our kissing to build up to the pinnacle moment. I feel his dick sliding around, spreading the lubrication. The latex feels foreign as it intrudes my folds. He has a few near successes before I reach between us, guiding him to my center to speed up the process.

 

I hold my breath. I become hyperaware of a seatbelt digging into my back and the unnatural angle my neck is crooked at against the door.

 

I feel a pinching. It’s slow and burns so much so that I am blinking back tears nearly immediately. I choke out the question I’m ashamed to ask. “Are you in yet, Peeta?”

 

“No, Katniss — that’s just the tip,” Peeta rasps.

 

I screw my eyes shut again. Oh my god. “Okay, just _do it_ already,” I command. This is supposed to be the worst part, right? I think back to health class, and try not to dwell on a lecture I once received from my mother.

 

And does he ever. He retreats, holds himself in hand, and realigns, to push further into me. Instead of a slow burn, this is a white-hot awful pain, caused by him trying to shove his massive dick in me. “Stop,” I mumble, “this is wrong. All wrong.”

 

“Okay,” he says as he pulls out and hovers over me.

 

“Get off,” I plead as I push on his broad chest. “I need air,” I beg.

 

Peeta rises up and away toward the other door, giving me room to breathe, and is silent in his retreat.

 

"I'm sorry—I," he starts.

 

"No, it's me. I'm not ready. And I'm not apologizing," I reply as I grope for my clothes.

 

"Of course not," he agrees, ever the gentleman.

 

"Can we just...can you just take me home?" I ask as I wrangle my shirt and turn my bra right side out.

 

"Yes, of course." Peeta assents. He pulls his jeans back up over his hips and exits the truck, giving me a foolish notion of privacy after what almost just happened. I catch sight of his abs and the muscles dip below. _Damn he looks good. What am I even doing? Maybe he needs to walk off his hard on. I don't know_.

 

I’m ashamed and embarrassed. This is a mistake; this is what happens when I let Madge get inside my head. I like Peeta, more than like him, but this doesn’t feel right. I struggle to redress myself and gather up my belongings.

 

He hops back up in the truck as an awkward silence overtakes the cab. I clutch the canvas to my chest the whole way home.

 

…………

 

He stops at my curb and opens his door to get out. I reach over to grab his knee to stop him. I try to relax the scowl I know I’m wearing.

 

"Hey—let's just say goodbye here." I just want out this truck, with our near-sex still hanging in the air.

 

"Okay. Katniss, I think we have something. I want to keep seeing you after we're done with the plants, take you on a real date. And if we ever get where we almost went tonight, I want to do it properly so that you're completely comfortable, and it's not just a random fuck in the back seat of a truck."

 

Peeta seems to have found his voice but I'm somehow still annoyed and I know my eyebrows are creasing again.

 

He continues, "You give me everything — your time, your efforts, but it's still nothing because I still don't know what's going on in your head. Do you even like me?"

 

_Yes_ , I want to scream. This wasn't random. But we are going to graduate soon and we’re headed to opposite corners of the state. I can't even voice this to him. He's right — I give him nothing.

 

"You don't understand the effect you have, Katniss."

 

"What does that even mean? You know what...never mind," I throw back at him through clenched teeth. The hunger that was once pooled in my stomach has now mutated into tension, and I feel it radiating off me in waves.

 

He obviously meant to demean me. _Right?_ I'm done. This was a bad idea. All of it. I just have to figure out how to get through the next few weeks.

 

I jump out and slam truck door. I stomp up to house and break into a run before I do something stupid, like cry. I throw my own door shut, and hurl myself against it.

 

‘SURPRISE!!’ rings out as soon as I open my eyes.

 

I turn around slowly to find Madge, Prim, and Mom all waiting by the dining table. What looks like my favorite meal is laid out. There are a few balloons, and I see a gallon of ice cream out on the kitchen counter.

 

Before I can even catch my breath, I’m accosted by a chorus of birthday wishes and song.

 

And I crumble to the floor.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Do you want some stew?”

 

I don’t even know who asks what, as tears threaten to spill from my eyes.

 

I shake my head and run towards my room. Disregarding how rude I’m being to a house guest, I sink to the floor to collect my thoughts in privacy.

 

“Do you think she’s hurt?” I hear Prim ask in a timid voice.

 

“No, she just seemed disheveled. She’ll come out when she’s ready,” my mother diagnoses.

 

“Well, I’ll go check on her,” Madge calls as I hear her approach.

 

“Hey Madge, I...I want to clean up before we eat, okay?” I voice through the door, buying myself a little more time.

 

A deep sigh resonates through the thin particleboard. “Okay, Katniss, we’ll be downstairs when you’re ready,” Madge yields.

 

I start the shower and strip. I’m equally sad and mad to rinse Peeta off of me. The lingering scents of cinnamon, mint, sweat, and hormones from the last hour were my evidence of the life-changing decisions I had been ready to make. I step under the water and rinse myself free of that. I also detect an ache between my legs that confirms I wasn’t ready.  

 

Once I’m clean, I braid my wet hair back and throw on my favorite casual dress and sweater before rejoining the makeshift birthday party.

 

“Thank you, thank you all for this meal,” I address to my mom and sister. “Thank you for coming over,” I direct to my friend. “Let’s eat!” I encourage, with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. It comes out pretty charmless, if I’m honest.

 

Prim has unpacked my day bag for me and uncovered Peeta’s gift. When she asks about it, a fresh wave of guilt washes over me.

 

Prim tries the hardest to alleviate the funk surrounding me, though I know it’ll be Madge that breaks me later. They coax a few bites out of me and we get through dinner, though my appetite has all but dissolved. I later release Prim of sister duty. Thankfully, she has a sleepover planned anyway, and my mom should be headed out for the night shift around midnight.

 

Madge brings the chocolate ice cream and a new copy of the album for my birthday present to my room. I flip through the booklet and Polaroid-type photos. The lyrics catch my eye and I absorb them through song. She doesn’t sing along this time, which I consider a birthday gift all by itself.

 

My attempts at relaxation are broken by the sound of my cell phone. I fish it out of my backpack to check the caller. The screen confirms what I could have guessed: It’s Peeta and my battery is low. I mash the ‘talk’ button and take a deep breath.

 

"Katniss, look, I'll finish the project so you don't have to—" Peeta leads.

 

“No! I'm not gonna leave you hanging. I'm not gonna do that,” I declare.

 

“Why not?” he pleads.

 

"Damn it, Peeta. Just because I didn't want to have sex with you doesn't mean we're not going to finish this project together." I retort.

 

"I just thought I'd give you space." he stammers.

 

"Well, you thought wrong." I end the call.

 

Madge's eyes grow as round as saucers as I throw my phone down. "Tell me everything," she begs.

 

It all tumbles out: The library, the smiles, the painting, the kiss that started it all, the grinding, the condom, the god-awful pain, anxiety, and the anger.

 

"Hold up—he had a gold-packaged condom? Did it say 'magnum'?" Madge guffaws.

 

"Maybe? I don't know. It was dark," I offer. _Why is this so funny?_

 

"Damn... Peeta must be packing some heat. I mean, I figured with his build n' all…”

 

"MADGE!!!"

 

"Sorry, sorry. Sidebar," Madge relents.

 

"I panicked. Stopping him felt right, still feels like it was the right thing to do,” I correct myself. “So what do I do now? I mean, I do like him. More than like him. I might love him. But he probably doesn't even want to talk to me now. He probably thinks I hate him. And he'll never know," I ramble. "He won't know what I never said."

 

She sighs and hugs me. "You breathe. You think about what you really want. If you really do like or even love him, then I would set aside all thoughts about graduation and long-distance relationships next year. You've never even talked about another guy, let alone kissed or almost fucked one...so this thing you have with Peeta is a big deal," Madge empathizes.

 

"Love," she immediately throws her hands up to stop my protests so I let her finish, "if it's love, it finds a way. Even if it's a crooked love in a straight line down," she finishes cryptically.  

 

Madge leaves around midnight, when Mom's shift starts at the hospital. I remember to charge my phone, should I need it tomorrow.

 

I restart the album and retreat to the nook in front of my picture window. I glide over the first few tracks and then one song grabs me. I _do_ wish we could go back. And suddenly Madge's advice makes sense. I hit repeat on my CD player and soak in the song. I lean over to hoist up the sill a few inches; it seems that I’ve become accustomed to a breeze as well.  I note raindrops on the panes and wonder when it rained. An hour passes, maybe two while the music resonates in my bones.

 

The raindrops are barely illuminated by the low light I set once Madge left. The headlights on my window and that damn loud exhaust are as good as a blood trail in the forest. He's out there now and I bet he’s hurting too.

 

I reach for my phone and out to him without another thought.

 

Katniss [2am]: I wish you were here.

 

P [2:02am]: I could come back. I could turn around.

 

K [2:03am]: I wish you would.

 

I toss my phone back down and unbraid my hair. I weave it back together and unravel it to calm myself down a few more times before I hear it. I don’t even need to turn my head to check the lights in the window to know it’s him, no more than ten minutes later than his last text. The roar of his truck feels like my emotions amplified.  He parks and I hear a soft knock at front door. I rush towards it.

 

The door yanks open in my grasp and I lunge at Peeta to embrace him and pull him into the house.

 

“I’m sorry that I came after you like that,” I mumble into his neck.

 

"It was a compliment, you know" he says sheepishly. "I meant it as a compliment, Katniss. You have an effect on me," he says, with a little more confidence.

 

"I know,” I acknowledge as I tip up to brush his lips. My kiss is demanding and urgent, meant to assuage the damage I inadvertently inflicted earlier. I alternate my passionate attack between his top and bottom lip, sliding in my tongue when I can, to lick against his. The hunger I felt before returns ten-fold and it’s not enough to just kiss him. I want to feel him all of him again.

 

My lips drift from his mouth to brush his jaw line and over the chords of his neck. I land on a spot there that causes a sexy moan to emanate from his throat.

 

“I know,” I repeat, as a whisper in his ear. “You have an effect on me too," I confess as I place his palm at the juncture of my thighs to show him.

 

Peeta groans as his fingers graze the accumulated dampness at the apex of my legs. He pulls back and arrests my movements, “Katniss, I want you — I want to do this right though."

 

"We can do the right later. It's my birthday. And I want to try again with you," I persuade him and pull his hand back to my core. “Touch me,’ I beg.

 

A wide grin breaks across his face. “Are you sure?”

 

I comfort his uncertainty by hitching a leg around him to draw him closer. We're standing like we stood earlier, though now it's the foyer wall at my back instead of a truck door. He’s slanted his mouth down over mine and his right hand dives past my waistband in earnest while his left supports my leg perched on his hip.

 

He fumbles around a little, testing and exploring, but when his knuckles brush a certain spot, I cry out.

 

“Peeta, there – stay there!” I plead to keep him focused before I return my lips to his. He shifts his grip on me so that his thumb rubs firm circles, allowing his other fingers to discover my depths. He extends a tentative finger further within me.

 

I release another wail of pleasure in his ear, spurring him to continue his ministrations. I begin to buck my hips against his hand, mimic our movements in the truck. My breasts are brushing up against his chest in a teasing dance. I can also feel his hard length, and I grind into it as he works me.

 

I feel him add a second finger and I tear my mouth away from his to call his name aloud.

 

“Shhhh…” Peeta warns as he seals my mouth a kiss, undoubtedly intended to silence me but he needs to know how much I like this after what happened earlier.

 

“Keep going,” I lick into his ear and his fingers motions intensify. His pulses and circles on my clit speed up with the warms breaths I’m releasing.  I adjust my leg around him to draw us even closer, and tilting my hips so that he drives his fingers in at a slight angle. He curls his digits deep within me and it makes all the difference in the world with the slanted approach. A sensation bubbles up within me, sourced from the Peeta’s lavish strokes and spreads to my trunk and out to my limbs before snapping back and squeezing his fingers, still hidden within me. I convulse against him as the orgasm ripples through my body.

 

My leg slips down off his hip as I process the exhilaration thrumming through my veins. Peeta’s hand slides up and grips my hip.

 

“Happy Birthday Katniss,” he whispers in my ear while nuzzling my neck.   

 

“You know….the house is empty,” I admit between kisses on his forehead, “and we don’t have to stop celebrating...”

 

“Then why are we in the hallway?” he asks with a wry smile.

 

Groping and stumbling most of the way to my room, we finally land on my bed. Unfastening Peeta’s jeans proves to be difficult with erection in the way. I manage to free him and shove his jeans halfway down his legs. I shed my own sweater and dress quickly too. Still riding the high of my orgasm, I’m eager to return the favor.

 

He totters with his legs hitched together and I seize the opportunity put him right where I want him. I place my palms on his chest to give him a light push down onto my bed. I straddle him, seated on the edge of the bed to recreate what felt good in the truck and hallway earlier.  He manages to peel his t-shirt off and wiggle his pants down off of his legs. The movement catches my eye, but I don’t realize what he’s doing until another gold square gleams in his palm.  

 

“Did you think the odds would be in your favor?” I taunt him.

 

“Considering that we’re right back where we were earlier, I’d say so,” he returns. “Besides, my brother brought back a whole box from Spring Break.”

 

“Oh really?” I tease.

 

“Really — but we can go as slow as you want.” I won’t like it if you don’t like it,” he promises.

 

“I’m ready, I mean I’ll like it,” I commit. I watch in fascination as he tears open the wrapper and places the condom over the head of his cock. He stretches the top and starts to roll the rest down. I reach forward and steer his motions, wanting to help in the process. The brief glimpse of his ridges and veins fascinate me and I make a mental note to explore them later.

 

I can tell that he’s willing to let me be in charge this time and beams at me while I finish preparing him. I raise myself up and hold him over my center. I can feel myself nearing dripping on to him when he clears his throat.

 

I shift my focus from where we’re about to join to search his face. I can see the question rising to the surface.  

 

"Is this love? I mean, is it real?" he asks.

 

I consider his inquiry and reflect on my range of emotions today. I shrug and relay my rationale. "Yes. It's mad, mad love. And it's real. We’ll figure it out,” I assure him, holding his gaze.

 

Before I felt trapped beneath him, now I am completely free to control the movements. My arms are draped on his shoulders and our faces are in line as I slowly sink down, easing him within me. He places his palms on the underside of my breast, ghosting his thumbs across the tips. Once I’ve enveloped the tip, I gasp for air in shallow breaths as the rest of his length fills me.

 

His fingers brace my ribcage, holding me once I’m fully seated on him. I kiss him again, completing the circuit of our connection. I open my eyes to see his expression of awe reflected back at me. All traces of the anxiety I felt earlier are gone. I pull in a deep breath before rising up ever so slightly and sinking lower again. It’s not nearly as painful as it was previously either.

 

Peeta's grunts in my ear encourage me to keep riding him in this relaxed pace. It seems neither one of us are in a hurry to end what we’ve started.

 

One of his hands snakes up my back to grab my hair and wrap it around his fist. He tugs it, exposing the column of my neck to his lips. He presses kisses to my throat and follows with flicks of his tongue. The attention paid to my neck emboldens me to increase my stride. I ride up a little higher with each bounce but not enough to let him slip out. I test my sensitivity by adding more force to my down thrusts. I begin to feel the pleasure build in me again with each motion and I chase it. My bottom is now slapping against his thighs now as I break into a full trot against him. My senses are overloaded between the slickness where we are joined and how my knees are wedged against his hips and my bedspread. The feelings spread from my short nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders, and the delicious ache stretched between my quads, hamstrings, and glutes. I raise up past the head of his cock just to surge back down and let him fill me again and again. His hands slip to my waist to help guide me up and down his dick.

 

My name escapes his lips in a hiss. “I’m close,” he breathes into my ear.

 

I push the words out. “I think I am too, just hang on.”

 

“Again?” he asks in astonishment.

 

“Yes, you goof,” I reply, not to be deterred from reaching the euphoria I had hints of earlier.

 

His fingers inch down between us to reach my clit again. He pushes on it with his index finger and rubs in the same rotations until the feeling I was rushing towards catches me by surprise and bursts behind my eyes. It’s so much more intense than earlier, with all of him inside of me. The sensation freezes me in this moment and all of my muscles spasm while Peeta is still buried deep within me. I cry out and momentarily falter in my grip around his shoulders, but he holds my hip steady to him while I come. Once the major waves pass, I am aware of him undulating my hips against him, pushing his cock through my still contracting muscles.  

 

He moans and I feel him tense and shudder just before his face falls to my shoulder, cheeks squishing against my heated flesh.

 

His kisses press into my collarbone as his deep exhales skitter down my back. I’m thankful that I’m caged to him, since my limbs are numb. I rest my head against his as our breaths even out.

 

“That was....wow,” Peeta exclaims.

 

“Quite a birthday present, I’d say.”

 

“One that I’ll happily give you anytime you want it,” he pledges.

 

“Oh yeah?  Did you say you had a whole boxful of those?”

 

**The End**  
  



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